the last 2 nights have been a huge headfuck for me. i admitted a 49 year old lady, previously healthy, last time she was in hospital was to deliver her now 24 year old son. she was admitted for respiratory failure related to a football sized solid tumour in her left breast. on further examination it was shown that she has diffuse metastases throughout her lungs and possibly her brain. she never went to see a doctor because of her abnormally large growth... she and her family thought it was a rash related to her allergies. no joke. because she left it so long she's at the point where a doctor who specializes in breast cancer surgery said there is NOTHING more we can do for her. it's so sad and so tragic that it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about it. i spent half of last night listening to her shocked and devastated son sob at her bedside.
you know... in my line of work, i deal with the sickest of the sick; cancer, sepsis, MVA's, spinal cord injuries, trauma, multiorgan failure, transplants etc. most of the time you go to work, detach yourself enough so that you can do your job and go home without being completely overwhelmed with all the sickness, the death and the dying. but every now and again you'll get a case that hits home and sends your head spinning. days/nights like these send me home numb, emotionally and physically exhausted, nauseous and unable to sleep. the last time i felt this bad was when i was working in ottawa a couple of years ago and we had a 14 year old boy who had a huge osteosarcoma removed. another devastating cancer case. the only way i know how to deal with things like this is to write about it. i've never shown this to anyone so whether you consider that luck or misfortune, i won't be offended. it's more for me to vent and decompress.
i am a registered nurse in an adult intensive care unit. a large quantity of my patient population has some form of cancer. partially due to age and also in part to having a major cancer centre adjacent to the hospital that i work at. this week marked a first for me... not highly unusual being that i've only worked here since january. on wednesday i met a 14 year old boy who was brought to us after a 20 hour surgery to remove a huge osteosarcoma from his thigh. in order to salvage some of his leg, his lower leg was rotated 180 degrees (called a rotationplasty) and reattached to his hip so that his ankle and foot could be used as a knee joint for prosthesis. let me tell you it's very strange to look in a room and see a backwards foot peeking out of the blankets. sadly limb reattachment surgery does not always heal the way we like. in order to hopefully save the limb, our team started leech therapy to help restore blood flow. while waiting for our 11 bags of leeches to arrive we this poor kid to the hyperbaric chamber (again to give the limb the best possible chance) but not before cutting his eardrums so the pressure in his head could equalize during the dive. it is now saturday morning at 4 am. leeches on for one hour every three hours for the last 4 days. rapidly infusing blood products to replace his huge losses. pain medication continuously pumped into an epidural in his back, frequent boluses to try and control the excruciating pain, IV boluses of narcotics we use for surgical and procedural pain... maxing out our dosing because it wasn't even coming close to relieving it. just turning him to change his blood soaked sheets... his screams still echo in my head. "its not fair", he screams. "why?? why are you doing this to me??". all four of us nurses look at each other and at his father and at him with helpless eyes. soft words of encouragement and guidance to calm him, a hand stroking the peach fuzz that has grown back on his head since he finished chemo. squeezing back tears that burn my eyes while i support the dusky backwards half leg. i thank the higher powers of above that i work in an adult ICU instead of a pediatric one. this is not something i could handle on a daily basis. at least with adults, the end usually comes as a relief. but this, this i don't know how to deal with. i have 2 more nights next door to this little man. i had to write it down... this is how i cope.
you know... in my line of work, i deal with the sickest of the sick; cancer, sepsis, MVA's, spinal cord injuries, trauma, multiorgan failure, transplants etc. most of the time you go to work, detach yourself enough so that you can do your job and go home without being completely overwhelmed with all the sickness, the death and the dying. but every now and again you'll get a case that hits home and sends your head spinning. days/nights like these send me home numb, emotionally and physically exhausted, nauseous and unable to sleep. the last time i felt this bad was when i was working in ottawa a couple of years ago and we had a 14 year old boy who had a huge osteosarcoma removed. another devastating cancer case. the only way i know how to deal with things like this is to write about it. i've never shown this to anyone so whether you consider that luck or misfortune, i won't be offended. it's more for me to vent and decompress.
i am a registered nurse in an adult intensive care unit. a large quantity of my patient population has some form of cancer. partially due to age and also in part to having a major cancer centre adjacent to the hospital that i work at. this week marked a first for me... not highly unusual being that i've only worked here since january. on wednesday i met a 14 year old boy who was brought to us after a 20 hour surgery to remove a huge osteosarcoma from his thigh. in order to salvage some of his leg, his lower leg was rotated 180 degrees (called a rotationplasty) and reattached to his hip so that his ankle and foot could be used as a knee joint for prosthesis. let me tell you it's very strange to look in a room and see a backwards foot peeking out of the blankets. sadly limb reattachment surgery does not always heal the way we like. in order to hopefully save the limb, our team started leech therapy to help restore blood flow. while waiting for our 11 bags of leeches to arrive we this poor kid to the hyperbaric chamber (again to give the limb the best possible chance) but not before cutting his eardrums so the pressure in his head could equalize during the dive. it is now saturday morning at 4 am. leeches on for one hour every three hours for the last 4 days. rapidly infusing blood products to replace his huge losses. pain medication continuously pumped into an epidural in his back, frequent boluses to try and control the excruciating pain, IV boluses of narcotics we use for surgical and procedural pain... maxing out our dosing because it wasn't even coming close to relieving it. just turning him to change his blood soaked sheets... his screams still echo in my head. "its not fair", he screams. "why?? why are you doing this to me??". all four of us nurses look at each other and at his father and at him with helpless eyes. soft words of encouragement and guidance to calm him, a hand stroking the peach fuzz that has grown back on his head since he finished chemo. squeezing back tears that burn my eyes while i support the dusky backwards half leg. i thank the higher powers of above that i work in an adult ICU instead of a pediatric one. this is not something i could handle on a daily basis. at least with adults, the end usually comes as a relief. but this, this i don't know how to deal with. i have 2 more nights next door to this little man. i had to write it down... this is how i cope.
in lieu of my recent cancer experience i'd just like to bring to your attention something that i think is super important for both men and women. education and prevention are our two best defenses against cancer. i think the statistic now is 1 in 3 people will be diagnosed with some form of cancer in their lifetime. so i though i would post this. i was happy to find it the education section of the skate4cancer website which advocates for donations to the princess margaret foundation, the centre of cancer research excellence for all of canada. i used to work next door to PMH and it's an amazing hospital. 2 of my family members have been treated there and thankfully both are in remission. so... read this and do it once a month. dudes.. that goes for you too only with your scrotums (ballsacks, if you will). although you should probably check your man boobs... men CAN get breast cancer too. if you find anything at all... ANYTHING out of the ordinary... DO NOT WAIT... PLEASE GO SEE YOUR DOCTOR. even if it turns out to be nothing, at least you know what it isn't.
oh.... and this is this is amazing.
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